


Amortentia

by ohmysmaug



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmysmaug/pseuds/ohmysmaug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor can't seem to put his finger on what's floating around his TARDIS, but it all seems to lead back to a short girl in a tight skirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amortentia

At first, it was subtle.

After over nine hundred years of floating around time and space in a blue box, he was used to different scents lingering from his companions. Rose seemed to have had an obsession with a perfume that had reminded him of lilies. It was still clinging to a worn, brown trench coat, and to pinstripe suits and an old Victorian dress. Amy's shampoo had a distinctive cherry blossom scent that he could occasionally still smell on his tweed coat, which he seldom wore now. Rory's aftershave was still in the air of one of the bathrooms, something like evergreen trees. Martha's lavender tea could be located in one of the cabinets in a small kitchen that he rarely managed to find. The smell of River's personal favorite vodka still floated in the air, making him wonder if she was still snatching the TARDIS, even now. None of those, however, were as strong.

French vanilla. Faint, but there. It started appearing after the trip to Akhaten, but seemed to grow increasingly stronger. His nose couldn't quite pinpoint it aboard the Russian submarine; he could only smell the ocean, along with the typical men's deodorant of the eighties. On the trip to 1974 it returned, the caramelized vanilla. He couldn't tell from where yet, but his frock coat had certainly trapped the fragrance within. It was only after he found his TARDIS damaged, dying, in a rush to figure everything out all at once, did it all click.

Clara Oswald smelled like French vanilla. 

Beneath the grime and sweat that covered them both that day, her hair still carried a tinge of the fragrance. His theories were proven to be correct when she came into the console room after everything was sorted, French vanilla filling the air after her long shower. It followed her out of the room, even as a small smirk lingered on the Doctor's slightly worn face. He had started to look a bit older, or was that a trick of the light? 

The funniest thing was...

Clara Oswald's lips tasted of French vanilla, so he learned later on.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a lot of Whouffle feels lately, as noted. Bravo to everyone who noticed the Harry Potter reference of a title.


End file.
